


Under the Devil's Tears

by jyuanka



Category: Berserk
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyuanka/pseuds/jyuanka
Summary: Maybe the banished Devil’s tears up above her were already guiding her heart, she just never noticed.





	Under the Devil's Tears

 

Farnese took a deep breath, and yanked the sheet off and away from her body. She hated the humidity; she was not used to it, and the thick, hot air settled on her chest like a treasure trove, too heavy even with the blanket off. It was nothing like the heat the fire provided her in the cold of her homeland’s long winters, this heat was sticky, and made her feel like she was waddling in a pool of mud and that plants were coiling in her throat. It was quite literally suffocating.

Everyone around her was fast asleep, even Guts who was usually found wide awake in the late hours of the night. Now the man was nestled close to Casca, with her slender arm draped over his chest and his arm cushioning her head. Farnese thought it sweet, but bitter; they were lovely, radiant, she felt that whenever the two were physically close a beam of light descended upon them, marking them, celebrating them, and mocking her.

She had put real effort into getting over her feelings for the man, and so far, she was actually doing great. It wasn’t one of them she craved, but their relationship. Something similar, something as warm and safe, someone to drape her arm over and lay her head over his arm. Seeing them hurt, it hurt in that dim and mussy place in her heart where she felt deep loneliness and longing for a significant other, but there was no envy, for she had banished it from her heart.

She took a second breath, trying to inhale whatever coolness floated with the air around her, but it only ended up chocking her more. Farnese sighed and got up, tiptoeing around and between the sleeping bodies of her comrades strewn about the place. She shot everyone a loving glance before she opened the door and climbed the creaking wooden stairs before finally emerging to the open space of the deck.

The atmosphere here wasn’t all that much better, but the sky was studded with stars _ tears of the banished devil, as the folklore back home refers to them_ and the infinite blackness of the sky was comforting. If she focused all her energy in her eyes and kept looking up, she could pretend that she was floating, weightless, in the air, so close to those wretched angels, so close she could cry with them, and have her tears forever immortalized in the sky, above everyone’s heads, and maybe one day by chance they’ll lead a lost lover back home. How satisfying that would be.

Those same Devil’s tears lead her eyes to a place nearby, the crow’s nest, and there she found Roderick, perched up high like a watchful, protective bird, loose ponytail _usually fluttering with the wind_ was stuck to his back, no doubt from the unbearable heat.

Her heart fell when he gazed down. She admired how quick he was to feel another’s presence when he was so up high, and replied to his enthusiastic wave with an awkward one of her own. God, was he going to come down? Will he ask if she was sick or something? Instead, he made a wild gesture with his arms indicating for her to climb towards him.

Farnese smiled even though she was sure he couldn’t possibly see it from his place, but hesitated before taking the netted robes and lifting her legs up. She and Roderick were rarely alone, and whenever she was around him in what seemed like a private moment, feelings of guilt bubbled up inside her. A voice in her head always insisted that he really wasn’t seeing her, only seeing the fraudulent image she armed herself with, that of a dutiful and good girl, quiet and abashed, scared but brave sometimes, and that voice insisted that she was lying to him and draping her true self in veils upon veils of deceit.

It was not fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to herself either. Farnese has become able to recognize that voice within her when it spoke, it sounded a bit like her father, and a bit like the young servant girl she’d burned, and they taunted her whenever a streak of self-doubt and loathing chanced its way within her. Farnese had become able to shut them when necessary, but many a night she had to lay in her corner and listen to them until she was too exhausted to listen anymore.

Therefore, for now, she silenced them and lifted her leg up, and began her way towards the man waiting for her in the crow’s nest. The moment she was close enough Roderick leaned down and hauled her from her arms, where she was in the air for a moment before he caught her from the waist, and gently lowered her down, bringing them face to face.

Farnese’s face blazed an embarrassing red, and she noted that her arms had _purely unconsciously and out of instinct_ found their way to his shoulders. Once she regained her bearings, she quickly removed them. Roderick gave her a chance to recollect herself before he helped her sit down.

“It’s too hot, isn’t it?” he said, still sporting that effortless smile. Farnese envied him for it.

“Y-yeah, it is. I couldn’t sleep.” She replied, shrinking on herself.

Roderick sat across from her, maintaining a respectable distance between them _as respectable as a tiny crow’s nest would allow, anyway_ but her bare feet were inches away from his boot-clad ones. She found that she didn’t entirely mind the whole thing, this kind of closeness coupled with this gap was oddly comforting.

“I couldn’t sleep either so I sent the barrelman to bed and took his place.” Roderick said. “You don’t like the heat?”

“At all, back in Vritannis it’s usually cold, and even the summers aren’t very hot, so I’m not used to this humidity.” Farnese chuckled. “It’s very bothersome, but it’s much better here in the crow’s nest.”  

Roderick frowned. “I hope the journey on the Sea Horse isn’t too taxing. It would pain me to know that something I cannot possibly change is weighing heavy on you and making you long for home, so pardon me, please.”

Farnese shook her head. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault, you have done everything to make us safe and comfortable, and to be honest…it- it doesn’t make me miss home. I long for the snow and the cool air, but not for Vritannis, and those things can be found elsewhere.” She turned her head upwards and surveyed the stars. “I just hope this heat wave passes soon.”

“It will.”

They exchanged a smile, but otherwise lapsed into silence. They would throw glances at the other when they were looking somewhere else, and chuckle when one of them was caught.   
Farnese found that she liked his smile, liked the way his damp locks stuck to his broad forehead, the way his ponytail found its way from the back of his head to over his shoulder, and the peaceful, serene look he sported when he leaned his back against the wooden railings and closed his eyes whenever a cool breeze passed them by. She liked that he gave her space, and didn’t push for a conversation. She thought it a good step to opening up to him, a sure step to become more truthful with the man who has been nothing but kind and supportive to her.

She had recognized how little effort she actually put into knowing him, how little time she devoted to discovering the man who was supposed to be her future husband. Whenever they were together, it was always him approaching her, always him initiating conversation, always extending a hand of friendship and kindness. She, on the other hand, had always found herself escaping any place at any moment where it seemed they would be alone. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, and most times he acknowledged her obvious and bare desire to not be with him and offered her nothing but a smile before seeing to his men and duties.

Farnese inwardly pinched herself. Why was she like this? Why did she close herself off to this man? She looked at him and saw potential for something lovely, for something fulfilling and warm, things she deeply craved, but her brain would scream at her, that voice inside her would spit out thoughts about how she was too evil, too rotten, too wild to be anyone’s wife, least of all  their friend. It would let out a drawn snicker and remind her of how Roderick only wanted to marry her for convenience and social leverage, only wanted to marry her for a crown; that once he had her as his truly wedded wife, he will discard her behind in a faraway island with his parents, who will regard her with nothing but disapproval, wondering aloud so she could hear of why their son chose to marry this wicked witch.

Farnese shut her eyes and rebelled the voice, fighting it fiercely and shoving it to a dark corner in the back of her mind. It wouldn’t do to let someone who vaguely sounded like her father control her reactions. She had left that behind, she had found her ways around that control, she will not remain beholden to it, she was far stronger than it, and she wasn’t going to give up that bright, free and independent voice that whispered encouragements in her ears and riled the blood of bravery in her veins.

She sighed and glanced to Roderick, only to find him staring at her. She let out a silly snort and gazed away in embarrassment. Roderick chuckled. “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

Farnese brought her eyes to meet his but then quickly returned to gazing at the sky. “Nothing important, I just wanted to ask what your homeland is like.”

“Oh!” Roderick beamed at her, a smile so wide finding its way to his face. “It’s wonderful, truly, but very modest as well.”

_Just like you_ , Farnese thought.

“Five rivers run through its lands, and it’s lush and green in the summer, red and golden in autumn.” Roderick continued. “In winter, it snows, but mostly it’s rainy, and in spring, it’s most magnificent.” He was gesturing wildly with his arms, trying to convey the image to her. “Spring is my favorite season, when we were children, me and my siblings and cousins would go out in the garden at our palace and would lay under the sun and recount all the stories we’ve heard while making each other flower crowns. It was most silly but I enjoyed it plenty as a child.”

Farnese widened her eyes. “Flower crowns?”

Roderick nodded. “It would be a pleasure to make one and adorn your beautiful hair with it.”

A rosy color sneaked to her cheeks and Farnese couldn’t help but chuckle and then bite her lip. “A flower crown… that would be lovely.”

But then a deep sadness settled in, the kind that grew like a thorn in the chest and spread its little, sharp knives in the heart. Her childhood was nothing like his. Her childhood was not one of playing in green spring fields with siblings and cousins, not one of sharing cute handmade crowns and exchanging stories under a warm sun. Her childhood was dark and wretched, cold and lonely, spent desperately craving for love and attention and getting none. Her moments of joy lay in twisted acts of cruelty, towards Serpico, towards other servants, towards helpless and entrapped animals. Only in those did she feel important, in control; she substituted love for dominance, substituted kindness with wanton neglect meant to make others feel inferior and weak before her, and here was Roderick, telling her of simple things like spring and stories and flower crowns, and she was utterly fascinated.

Oh how much she desired these things, these simple joys, of mornings spent basking under the sun and evenings spent in telling tales and hearing them. She closed her eyes against the tears, and managed to stammer out the words she wanted to say. “Tell me more.”

And Roderick did. He spoke of his childhood, of the heroes who inspired him, of his conservative family and his desire to see and explore the world. He spoke of his love for music, and history, and navigation. He spoke about his quirky uncles and aunts, and that one cousin with the lazy eye. He told her of the hideouts they built as children around the palace, and of the tree house in the garden, and of the large cherry tree he got stuck on and was too afraid to climb down. He recounted the time he wanted to ditch royalty and become a carpenter, and the other time when it seemed like a good investment to become a swordsmith, or that _other_ time when he opened the gates of the stable and let out all the horses. He even spoke about the romantic pasts he shared with local girls.

He was so unabashed throughout it all, so animated, so lively and vivid, and she listened to all his stories with an intent ear and a smile on her face.

Perhaps, just perhaps, she really wouldn’t mind going back with Roderick to his home country. Perhaps she truly could find a warm place for herself in this man’s heart. To lay under the sun with a flower crown on her head and a strong hand clasping hers, those were undeniably beautiful things. Farnese loved beauty, and wanted to be surrounded with it, to be _part_ of it, and that night, in that little, dingy crow’s nest, she was the closest she had ever been to it.

Maybe the banished Devil’s tears up above her were already guiding her heart, she just never noticed.     

**Author's Note:**

> This interaction was supposed to be included somewhere but got discarded in the end because the story just went another way, but I liked it a lot so I thought I should include it here: 
> 
> “Got any chilling night tales?” Roderick asked her, his arms crossed behind his head.  
> She could tell him her history, that was chilling enough.


End file.
